


Soon It Will Be Spring

by Flutteringby



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Implied Violence, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts, off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 13:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutteringby/pseuds/Flutteringby
Summary: Spring has finally come to Russia, only just barely, as Deputy Commissioner Gleb Vaganov returns home. He files his reports on Paris and addresses the people. “There never was an Anastasia. She was a dream.” A lie that would keep them both safe. “The New Order has no need for fairytales. The case is closed.” The events of Paris flicker in his mind as the cool air gives way to the warmth of the conference room. It is free of people save Commissioner Gorlinsky. "Deputy Commissioner Vaganov," the older man addresses him, "we know."





	Soon It Will Be Spring

Deputy Commissioner Gleb Vaganov stepped back from the balcony on which he had addressed the crowd in Leningrad. A late-season snow had just begun to fall dusting his head and shoulders, standing out against the black of his hair and green of his uniform. His own words still rang in his ears as he entered the office behind him.

“There never was an Anastasia. She was a dream.” A lie that would keep them both safe. “The New Order has no need for fairytales. The case is closed.” The events of Paris flickered in his mind as the cool, early spring air gave way to the warmth of the conference room.

It was free of people save Commissioner Gorlinsky. The older man stood on the other side of the table that sat in the center of the room, his shoulders square and face grim. Granted, his face was often grim, even when he was in a good mood.

“Deputy Commissioner Vaganov, a word.”

Gleb closed the doors behind him, drawing the curtains as befit Gorlinsky’s tone. He turned to face his superior, “Is something wrong?”

The air became heavy as Gorlinsky sat. Gleb followed suit.

“We know.”

The breath rushed from Gleb’s lungs. They couldn’t have figured it out already. He’d only been back in Russia three days.

“I’m sorry, comrade. I don’t quite—“

Gorlinsky cut the younger man off. “Gleb. I’m giving you some advance notice because I’ve come to see you as a friend, but it’s about the girl.” Gleb’s protest died on his lips. “Our informants in Paris relayed to us that she has been seen walking brazenly in the city with those conmen, whom you also failed to take care of.”

Gleb nearly flinched. The last part had been implied in his orders, but Anya—Anastasia—had taken precedence over two run-of-the-mill conmen. Gorlinsky sighed as the weight of Gleb’s fate became evident.

“You will stand trial for treason—“

“Treason?!”

“Three weeks from tomorrow.” The pause said all Gleb needed to know. “I suggest you get your affairs in order, Deputy Commissioner, or should I say Citizen Vaganov. Someone will be by tomorrow to take you to a holding cell to await your trial.”

A shade of what Gleb could only surmise as disappointment fell over Gorlinsky’s eyes. Disappointment that this protégé had failed when success was so imperative to the new order. Disappointment that the young man he had taken under his wing was now his enemy by the standard of the state.

“I understand” Gleb's pistol rested heavy in its holster. He had options. He could stand trial, be declared guilty as he was, and further defile his father’s legacy. Or he could end things that evening; find a nice place along the Neva and not worry about any trial or public shame brought on his family name.

“That’ll be all, Gleb. I suggest you go home. Get some rest.” Gleb nodded, saluted, and brushed past his now former mentor.

Beggars, lantern lighters, and street sweepers alike had all fled the Nevsky Prospekt to escape the cold that had settled in with the muted pink of the overcast sunset. The walk back to his apartment was blessedly uneventful.

Gleb’s building was new, close to work, and populated with his fellow officials. The apartments they were allotted were a little smaller than cozy, but serviceable nonetheless with private kitchens, a bath, and a bedroom each. Gleb didn’t need much more. The third story was a little further of a walk than he would’ve preferred, but the exercise wasn’t too awful. 

The cleaning girl, Yekaterina Sergeyevna—Something-or-other…(her family name hadn’t seemed to come up), whispered past the door as Gleb entered his apartment. Gleb only remembered meeting her once or twice as their schedules never happened to intersect, but she seemed decent enough, quiet but respectful. She was small with swarthy skin, dark brown hair braided up in some style to keep it out of the way, and blue eyes. She jumped hearing his boots against the wood floor. The wooden pail she had been carrying dropped to the floor, water sloshing over the sides.

“Easy there, comrade. It’s just me.”

“You’re home early, Deputy Commissioner,” she said, hand still pressed to her heart as if willing it to stay in her chest. She ran quickly to grab rags to sop up the mess.

“Ah, yes.” The sting of his former rank hit Gleb harder than he had anticipated. He knelt to help clean the spill as she returned.  “Yekaterina Sergeyevna, go ahead and leave early today. I have some business to attend to and I’d rather not be disturbed.” Gleb offered her a wan smile and headed to the small desk in the corner of the main room once the spill was mostly taken care of.

“Are you sure? I only have about fifteen minutes left before I normally leave, anyway.” She crossed to the sink and dumped the remaining water from the pale then placed the now empty bucket and rag back into the small closet in the kitchen.

“I’m sure everything’s in order. Please, feel free to go.” Gleb needed time alone. Time to think. And he couldn't think with the cleaning girl walking around the apartment, making only enough sound that he knew she was about.

“Katya!” A voice floated through an open window. Yekaterina—Katya—turned her attention to the voice.  

“That’ll be Masha. She and I walk home together.” She looked back at Gleb, something almost like concern in her eyes. “Servants talk, you know.” Pity, not concern.

Gleb looked at her, brow furrowed. “Meaning?”

“I know you’re not going to be here much longer.” Whether she meant in his apartment or alive, Gleb didn’t know. Perhaps both.

“I can help get you out of here.” Her volume had dropped though they were the only two in the room.

“KATYA!” Masha became more insistent.

“I’ll just be a minute, Masha,” Katya called, then turned back to Gleb.

“I’m no coward.” Indignation rose in Gleb’s chest. Running from the issue would help no one. If nothing else, today had shown he wouldn’t be safe anywhere.  Spies, Cheka, and people looking to make a quick ruble could ensure that.

“So you’ll just stay here and die?” Disgust dripped from the question.

“For my country? Yes.” Gleb held his ground. He hadn’t expected such a fight out of the cleaning girl who on the odd chance he came home early managed to make herself as scarce as possible.

“You really think Gorlinsky and his like are the best thing for Russia?”

He paused. Before Paris, Gleb would’ve said yes with unshakable certainty, but after Paris…after today, he wasn’t so sure. The people were no longer under the thumb of the monarchy, but were they now under the thumb of something bigger?

“I can only hope they are.” He glanced down, defeated.

“Look, Masha and I hadn’t planned on leaving tonight, but we can make it work.” The fire that had seemed to blaze within her slight frame cooled some.

“You were going to leave?” Three day ago, Gleb would have balked at the notion of any law-abiding citizen leaving Russia. She eyed him, still not fully trusting the man before her and paused a couple of seconds, weighing how much to tell him.

“In a week or two yes, but obviously that’s not going to work.”

“Why are you doing this?” Leningrad was full of spies, he’d be less than surprised if she were one.

“Katya!” Masha’s tone warbled with worry.

“Two women traveling across Europe alone isn’t exactly safe. You could offer some protection. Look, if you want to leave, pack a bag and I’ll be back at 2. I’ll knock once, then three times, then once again.” She nodded her goodbye. “Deputy Commissioner.”

“Yekaterina Sergeyevna.” He returned the gesture. She hurried out into the night as Gleb considered the offer. He watched the figure in the street. Another appearing a minute or so later still pulling on her coat as she rushed to meet the other.

 

***

 

“What took you so long?” Masha’s already ruddy cheeks were made more so by the cold, reddish-blonde hair covered by a hat. Her arms were crossed only in part to ward against the weather, her toe tapping in no particular beat. The snow had thankfully stopped.

“I’m sorry…” Katya glanced down like a child who’d been caught in the cookie jar. Masha examined her friend. Katya seldom apologized, and even more seldom did so for running late.

“Oh no. Don’t tell me—“

“They’re going to kill him, Masha!” Katya cut her friend off.

“So much the better! One less of them to worry about.” The taller woman’s tone had dropped to a hiss as she glanced around for eavesdroppers. The pair began their walk home.

“Fewer.” Katya corrected. Masha rolled her eyes in response.  The brunette ignored her friend’s annoyance. “And I know you’re not exactly keen on someone joining us—“

“That’s an understatement! And a Bolshevik officer isn't just "someone". Remember what happened to your family? To your father?” Masha’s brown eyes appeared black in spite of the streetlamps. Katya’s breath caught in her chest at the mention of her father.

“I don’t need reminding.” Her tone matched the temperature of the night. “But, you said yourself, you heard Gorlinsky say that Vaganov failed to kill someone. Obviously he can’t be that bad. He’s always been polite enough to me. And you know he’s looked the other way more than once when Galina had to pick up some _extra work_ to make ends meet.”

“Polite and kind aren’t the same thing. Neither are kind and good, for that matter. And refusing to kill one street sweeper doesn’t make him a good person.”

“But he’s still a person. Besides, you know two young women travelling alone isn’t the ideal arrangement. He has military training. He’ll owe us.  He could be useful.” Katya appealed to her friend’s sense of logic.

Masha threw up her hands after a minute or so of mulling it over, an over exaggerated show of exasperation that Katya had grown used to, even fond of. A small smile came to Katya’s face unbidden. Masha would always be Masha, no matter the circumstance.

“Fine!” Masha grew intense again. “But, are you sure he won’t turn us in?”

“We’re two maids. He’s the Deputy Commissioner. We’re not worth half of him in their eyes.” Katya shrugged off the concern.

Masha trudged ahead of her friend. “That’s not what I asked.” The complaint fell into her scarf rather than to Katya’s ears.

Galina was already asleep when the two entered the dormitory of their communal apartment building. It wasn’t much, but they each had beds. The three were lucky to only share with each other. The room was small, spartan, and silent save Galina’s snores. Katya pulled off her coat, and dress in a few swift motions.

“You’d think with how cold it is out for spring, I wouldn’t be sweating so much from walking.” The whispered complaint made Masha smile.

“It’s only the first week of April. Barely spring.” Masha justified the weather. “And we do have to walk at least a mile down Nevsky to get home,” she said, careful not to wake their sleeping friend. Masha leaned against the closed door holding up her lighter to keep Katya from tripping over something. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Just for a little while.” Katya stifled a yawn. “Wake me about midnight?” She pulled a nightgown over her slip attempting to ward off the chill she now felt leaking through the window.

“Of course.” Masha pulled out her pocket watch, the one memento of the past she kept, and wound it. Katya climbed under the meager covers of her bed.

“Aren’t you going to get some rest?” She turned to face Masha.

“In a bit. I’m going to go out for a smoke first. Clear my head a little.” She pulled out a cigarette from her coat pocket, closed her lighter, and left.

 

***

 

Gleb finished pacing the small hallway again, his pack slung over his shoulder. He’d been pacing for what felt like hours. Perhaps it had been hours. He hadn’t put much thought into keeping count. The man shifted between his feet as he stood. Would dying in shame or living in shame be worse? He supposed he could always end it like he’d planned. The Neva wouldn’t be an option, but there were other ways.  And perhaps he wouldn’t be in his beloved Russia, but maybe death would be restful no matter where he found it. His stomach knotted at the notion of death and again at the thought of never returning to his homeland. He ran a hand through his hair. Either way he’d never see Russia again. This was the cost of letting her live; of being unable to pull the trigger on the woman he loved. Her eyes flashed in his mind again. Clear. Blue. Filled with heartbreak and pity in equal parts. The memory of her hand in his came unbidden.

“Long life, comrade.” A bitter smile at the irony of his last words to her. He sat at his desk and waited.

The knock came just past 1:00. _Odd. I thought Katya had said two…_ A second knock as Gleb approached the door. _One-Two…_ It wasn’t Katya.

“Citizen Vaganov!” The door muffled the voice. Blood pounded in Gleb’s ears. Whoever this was, they were certainly not going to be on his side and it would only make his case worse being fully dressed in the middle of the night with a bag packed to leave. Gleb weighed his options. A three story drop out the window would most likely kill him and, since he had (at least temporarily) decided to live, that wouldn’t work. The only option would be to fight past the men at the door. They had guns, but if he came at them by surprise—

“Vaganov!” A different voice, less muffled than the first, broke through Gleb’s racing thoughts.

Gleb opened the door. Adrenaline pulsed through him and churned his stomach. He shouldered the man aside and bolted down the hall, the shouts of the two Cheka echoing behind him as he flew down the stairs. 

As he broke out into the night air, Gleb realized, _Katya!_

The cleaning girl would be at the apartment in half an hour or less. He didn’t know how well she lied, but she would need to be convincing if more officers showed up after the two he figured were chasing him. Gleb cut down an alley hoping his head start and the darkness would provide him some reprieve to catch his breath. His lungs burned with the effort of sprinting. He’d always been more suited to endurance than speed. He had run at least a half a mile, maybe more down the Nevsky Prospekt. The crunch of snow and dirt beneath the boots of his pursuers announced their arrival. He hoped that his weren’t the only footprints in the street and alley. Gleb had to think. Katya had mentioned where she lived once. He had to get to her, warn her before she left.

The slow approach of footsteps prompted Gleb to run again, cutting around the corner past the old Kazan Cathedral. Apartments. There were apartments just past the cathedral he remembered Katya mentioning once. It was a shot in the dark, but better than nothing.

The sloshing of muddy snow in his ears made it near impossible to tell his own footfalls from the Cheka who had been trailing him through back alleys and side streets. Gleb had doubled back a few times and now stood in the shadows of the old cathedral, pressed against a pillar. Silence. After around forty-five minutes of running from the officers, he breathed a sigh of relief. The pack dug into his shoulder and his lungs stung with each intake of air as he set off toward the communal apartment around the corner.

 

***

 

Masha had woken Katya around midnight as promised and the two packed and planned while Galina snorted and tossed, lost in some dream or another.

“I’m going to go get Vaganov,” Katya announced in a whisper as she pulled on her coat. The clock showed nearly twenty minutes until two and if she wanted to reach him on time, she’d have to leave now.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” Masha had already made her displeasure known several times since midnight. “Bringing some government crony into our escape. It’s bad enough I’ll have to join a _Catholic_ convent when we get to Paris, but I have to use some Bolshevik to get there?” The venom in her tone may have affected Katya the first four attempts Masha made at arguing with her, but time and repetition had diluted it.

Convincing Masha that they even _could_ leave Russia had been hard enough. The saving throw had been that she could become a nun again. Masha’s eyes regained some life to them after Katya had pointed that out. Masha had been an excellent nun before the convent was closed and would now get to be one again.

“I still don’t see why we can’t just leave him to his fate. Let the Bolsheviks sort themselves out.” Masha was beginning to sound like an impertinent child. “Fine, we’ll take the Bolshevik” had flipped rapidly to “Do we have to?” once Masha had returned from her cigarette.

“Goodbye, Masha.” Katya rolled her eyes at her friend’s whispered protests. “I’ll be back soon. Wake Galina and ask again if she’s sure she wants to stay.”

Katya closed the door as softly as she could behind her. Masha would always be Masha. The silence of the corridor echoed in the early morning darkness. Most everyone would be asleep about now. The stairs at the end of the hall were the only source of light as Katya tiptoed through. She slipped down the flights of steps easily enough and out the backdoor of the communal apartment building.

The cathedral loomed over the deserted street as Katya walked toward the Nevsky Prospekt. The snow had mostly melted into mud making for more of a trudge, really. For the briefest second a flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye. She turned to check. Nothing but shadows and mud greeted her.

A gloved hand grabbed Katya’s arm as she passed through the shadow of one of the cathedral’s looming pillars.  A million possibilities ran through her head. A robber, one of the Cheka, or worse were all distinct possibilities as the owner of the hand. She turned attempting to see the face attached to the person, arm straining a bit in his grasp.

“Don’t scream. It’s me.” As Katya’s eyes adjusted to the shadows, she could just make out Vaganov’s face in the darkness.

“What are you doing here? I was going to come get you.” Katya pulled her arm away as she turned to face him fully, rubbing her now uncomfortable shoulder.

“Two Cheka. I don’t know why, but they showed up at my apartment around 1:00.” Vaganov’s words were quiet and clipped.

Katya examined the man in front of her, searching for any trace of a lie. If the secret police were after him, either the government was trying to get rid of Vaganov before his trial to avoid the issue entirely or someone was on to them, maybe both. His dark eyes held more sincerity than Katya had expected. Sincerity, worry, and a hint of exhaustion.

“Come with me, then.” Katya checked around the pillar before motioning for Vaganov to follow her.

Katya had seen other women sneak men into the apartments before, but she assumed they had more enjoyable reasons for doing so than hers. The pair moved up the back staircase, careful to avoid getting too close to the too-thin walls.  

She opened the door to the apartment, being sure to turn the handle before pushing it open to avoid any unnecessary noise. The room was dark except for the candle burning on the table where Masha sat reading her Bible. Katya closed the door as softly as she’d opened it once they had entered.

“Katya? What? Why-” Masha sputtered at the sight of Deputy Commissioner Vaganov standing just past the threshold of the small living space. Panic rolled off of her in waves. “No! Now they’ll be coming here!” Masha forgot any worry of volume, earning a _shh_ from Katya.

“They? Who’s ‘they’?” Katya furrowed her brow.

“You sent them?” Vaganov overlapped with Katya stepping forward. Fury flashed through his face.

Katya’s hair stood on end at the low snarl of a question. Gone was the kindness in Vaganov’s brown eyes that she had taken for granted before. She had assumed he could be threatening when he wanted, but she’d never been near the receiving end of it.

 “Sent who?”  Katya stepped between Vaganov and Masha. “Masha, what’s going on?” The silence said it all, but Katya needed to know, needed to hear it from her closest friend. “Mariya.” Even the use of her given name had no effect on Masha.

“The Cheka.” Gleb answered for her. “That’s why I was hiding by the old cathedral when we ran into each other.”

The acrid taste of betrayal coated Katya’s mouth. “Masha, please, tell me that’s not true.”

If she heard the plea, Masha ignored it. “Do you know what it’s like to be ripped from everything and everyone you’ve ever known and loved, Vaganov?”

Galina stirred and sat up, taking in the tense scene before her. “Katya, what’s—“

“Gala, hush.” Katya tried to impress the serious nature of the situation onto the still sleep-addled blonde.

“Do you know what it’s like to have your purpose taken away in an instant?” Masha continued, looking at Vaganov for some sort of answer. His gaze locked firmly on the floor. “Of course not,” she scoffed.

“Masha, this isn’t the time to—“

“We’d been planning this for months, Katya. And all the sudden you decide to grow a heart and care about someone other than yourself?” Masha always knew the exact buttons to push.

“Masha, we don’t have time for this!” She brought her hand down hard on the table.

A knock interrupted the argument. “Comrade Antonova.” The voice was muffled by the thin door.

Masha brushed past Katya. “Don’t move.” Her look was pointed as she met each of their eyes individually. She stepped into the hall with the officers.

Galina pushed off the covers and held a finger to her lips. She crossed the short distance to the door turning the lock with barely a sound. “Go down the fire escape.” Her voice was a whisper, almost covered by the muffled conversation of Masha and the officers on the other side of the door.

The knob twitched as the officers attempted to open the door. Galina held her weight against it.

“Gala, come with us.” Katya held out her hand to the blonde woman, one leg on the fire escape, one still inside the window.

“No.” A sad smile graced Galina’s delicate features as she shook her head. “If I’m here but you two aren’t, they might think it was a false report and stop following you.” She shrugged, “Besides, I already have my life here. I don’t know that Paris would be different enough. Just promise to write to me when you get there.” Katya opened her mouth as if about to respond. “I’ll have someone read it to me and write down my letter back to you,” Galina finished flashing a ravishing smile that was almost convincing. 

Galina turned her attention to Vaganov. “And, Deputy Commissioner, make sure she gets there safe.” An unspoken truth passed between the two.

Gleb nodded, “Let’s go.”

Gleb followed Katya out the window into the cool early morning air and the pair moved down the fire escape. Two shots rang out as Katya’s feet hit the ground. Both of their heads whipped back up to the window from whence they’d come.

“Gala. Masha.” Katya froze as her heart dropped into her stomach.

 Gleb grabbed her wrist and pulled her along. “We have to keep going.”

“But what if they’re still—“a look from Gleb cut her off. “Gala knew,” Katya said as the realization forced her to a stop. _No. Not now_ , the tears burned as Katya fought them back.

Gleb stood a few paces on, waiting.

“We have to keep going,” Katya said. There would be time to cry later, there was always time to cry later. The two hurried off into the night, careful to use alleys and backstreets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is my first fanfic in probably 10 years, maybe more. Any way, this idea came to me after I saw the show the first time. What would've happened to Gleb if his superiors found out about his not being able to kill Anya? So I wrote something to answer that question. 
> 
> I did a lot of historical research for this fic (a lot of which really didn't even end up finding its way in, but that's ok. They always say never show all your research). One of the cool things I learned about was how during early Soviet Russia these sorts of "communal apartments" became a thing. It's a lot of information to go into right now, but long story short the shared spaces apparently really shaped a lot of modern Russian culture. 
> 
> Also! "Citizen" in modern Russian is considered to be a very offensive way to address someone as it is used for criminals. It's more akin to the word "perp" in English. Back during the Soviet era, it was used solely as a way to address people who were considered enemies of the party. 
> 
> A note on Russian naming conventions, from my understanding (again more research) calling one by their given name and patronymic is considered sort of neutrally respectful, hence why I have Gleb address Katya as Yekaterina Sergeyevna.  
> The most formal is the full name. Then comes nicknames. Katya is to Yekaterina in Russian as Kate is to Katherine in English. And then certain nicknames, such as Katenka or Katyushka, would imply more familiarity or intimacy (In my research the name Yekaterina was actually used as an example, so I can actually say that that Katenka would be like a parent calling their daughter "Katie-kins." )
> 
> Enough about my research ramblings, thanks for reading!


End file.
